05.25.2008 / EP. 12
A Wedding and a Cover-Up
“Take that as a vote of confidence,” said Carrie. She smiled broadly. Milly forced herself to recall the RED. Patience was a virtue.
But Milly wasn’t in the mood. “Apart from leaving Arthur at the altar last night. Unless he doesn’t count as a body. Oh, I forgot, you couldn’t attend the joyful occasion, Kerry. Too bad, so sad. Everyone in formal white and black. Men wear black to rue the happy day, I suppose. You’re dead, Kerry, and have an imaginary body plus this real one,” Milly prodded his chest, “that no one believes in. While Arthur, my former beloved, breathes and casts shadows and everyone believes in his body. Though no one would say he is one.” The past came tumbling back into Milly’s head as her words spilled out. “Or is Arthur the dead man on my office floor? In which case he is a body and has one and everyone will believe it.”
Carrie shook her head. She yawned. “You’re rambling. Arthur is fine. Though why you should care, I don’t know.”
“You’re right,” said Milly. She took a few slow breaths. “Arthur didn’t deserve to be jilted. He’s a fine man. Women are entitled, however, to leave fine men. And he was alive last time I saw him.”
“He still is,” said Carrie.
“Though I did leave him behind.”
“I don’t know how he survived,” Kerry said.
“The cake was sensational, Kerry. A triple-header. Like the wedding itself. I ended up with Fred Beaudine. A wedding was on the menu and I never disappoint. Fred stepped up to the plate. Though I don’t remember that he followed through in the important way afterwards. And Abel and Carolyn tied the knot. You know them. They bickered every step of the way as they always do. The Governor’s chef and head housekeeper?”
Kerry: “Abel and Carolyn make a wonderful couple. Don’t sneer.”
“I’m speaking fondly. And I have the gun. Who was the third blissful duo last night, Carrie? Let me see, my mind has gone blank. Kerry, you know her. What’s her name?”
Carrie puckered her lips. “Don’t be snide.”
“Both of you like giving orders,” Milly countered. “It was you, Carrie. The clear-eyed emotionally-depraved pixie who runs security for the Governor and addles her friends’ coffees for a hobby. You and Billy tied the knot. The open question is how long you’ll stay married. When will the challenge wear off? After a week? And how long will you keep your job? Kerry, did your sister happen to tell you she got married yesterday?” Kerry said nothing. “I swear, people never talk anymore.”
“You could disappear,” said Kerry.
Milly closed her eyes to prevent a fugitive idea from escaping altogether. What was it? If someone lay dead in her office, there’d be police around. The police didn’t like other people to pollute a scene before they arrived. Something followed logically, if she could get her head to work.
Carrie started to say something. Milly concentrated. She cocked the gun in her hand.
“You moved the body,” Milly finally said. “You moved the body and didn’t tell the police.”
“It made sense.” Kerry nodded.
“I don’t deny it,” Milly agreed.
“He’s in the park a block from the Quall,” said Carrie.
Milly: “A cover-up. Sweet.”
Kerry: “Protection. The press would crucify us.”
“Which explains why you troubled to bring me here. You think I know the dead man.”
Kerry: “We found two bodies actually.”
“How romantic.”
“In your office,” Carrie pouted. Random emotional displacement, Milly shouted to herself. “One was an antique doll.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Right, you collect dolls.”
“Who says so?”
“It’s common knowledge.” “The whole world.” “You prefer them to people.” Carrie and Kerry said one after the other.
Kerry showed her a picture.
“Never seen it before.” Milly, careful not to look at it, handed it back.
“You bought it a month ago. We’ve seen the catalogue. Milly, you can’t deny you were at your office last night. If you tell us what happened, we can try to fix it. We’re all on the Governor’s side. We’ll smooth it over. We’re friends,” Carrie spoke softly. She sneered, which made it easy for Milly to respond, thinking RED, RED. “I don’t have friends.”
Kerry: “That’s probably true and is a reason to believe you.”
“You believe me. I’m glad.”
Kerry: “To believe you collect dolls.”
“On the principle, I suppose, that a body that’s never lived is more esteemed than a body that is decaying, has finished with life, or hasn’t but was forced out.”
“I give up,” said Kerry.
“I confess. I did it. Between two and three in the morning, when I wasn’t drunk with Champagne, exhausted from dancing and no sleep, having pictures taken, and in the company of a battalion of witnesses.” Milly ran out of steam. “Let’s cut to the chase. What do the spy cameras show?”
“The electronics failed.” Carrie burst into tears.
Milly laughed without an ounce of mirth. “Too convenient,” she said. “This is no drugs break-in.”
Kerry: “I know.”
“Then why am I here? And forget my hourglass shape.”
“You talk about your body a lot, for someone who doesn’t use it.”
Milly: “You’ll never know.”
“I want you to trace the guy,” said Kerry.
“What guy?”
“Einstein.”
“He’s dead.”
“Exactly. Here’s a picture of the dead guy.” Kerry extracted a photo from his pocket. The face looked surprised. It was broad, with jutting cheekbones and square Slavic jaw. Heavy eyebrows. “Never seen him before,” said Milly. “But it shouldn’t be hard with modern technology. You’re sure it’s murder. No possibility of heart attack, maybe suicide?”
“Suicide,” Carrie mulled. She tittered. “I didn’t think of that. Guys always break into the headquarters of a future President of the United States and kill themselves in Milly Troie’s office.”
“Happens every day,” Kerry said.
Carrie: “With a knife in the throat.”
Kerry: “Now that’s rare.”
“Gibbering idiots,” said Milly.
